


entranced (i make myself look away)

by newisalwaysbetter



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Aftercare, Cock & Ball Torture, Cuckolding, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, F/M, Feelings, Fingerfucking, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Manhandling, Mind the Tags, Oral Sex, POV Wyatt, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Service Kink, Sub Wyatt Logan, Training, Watching, as always, but not made clear until midway through, flynn is protective, how many kinks can i fit in one fic, it's a prenegotiated scene, light aftercare, lucy gets all the orgasms, mildly, someone needs to tell wyatt it's okay to cry, these idiots ran away from me with their feelings, this asexual writes porn, this is the dirtiest thing I've ever written, wyatt is a little desperate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-19 10:45:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19355452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newisalwaysbetter/pseuds/newisalwaysbetter
Summary: With Wyatt uncertain about being allowed back into Lucy's life, Flynn shows him how to take care of Lucy properly. Lucy isn't complaining about Wyatt's education...in fact, it may have been her idea.(Post-S2 established relationship garcyatt pwp with Feelings. I regret Nothing.)





	entranced (i make myself look away)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Pyotr" by Bad Books (my go-to garcyatt song AND album).
> 
> Fair warning, this fic contains cuckolding kink, and a certain amount of humiliation/shaming language. All of this is negotiated and consensual, but I don't show that negotiation in-fic, although it's implied during aftercare. 
> 
> As always, know your squicks, take care of yourselves, and please enjoy! :)

Lucy's not in their room.

Wyatt had tried to help her down from the _Lifeboat_ , but Lucy had slipped from his hands with a fond smile. Wyatt lets her go. They've only just come back together again, after months of finding a new rhythm in the footsteps of their old one, and Wyatt is hesitant to push.

(He lets Lucy take care of that.)

Three times now she's jumped him, back in their room post-mission, each time fucking with increasing fury. It's like she's making up for lost time. Wyatt's not complaining, exactly--in fact he's thrilled, tries to return her enthusiasm, but Lucy seems intent on picking up where they've left off, while Wyatt's still figuring out who his new self is, and that makes him uncertain.

(He doesn't like the word _afraid,_ and frankly Wyatt's just starting to deal with thirty years' worth of avoiding introspection, but that sounds uncomfortably right.)

Enough time has passed, probably. He goes searching for her. Wyatt's been trying to find the right words for weeks now, but it's hard to think when Lucy's got her tongue halfway down his throat.

(Again, he's not complaining.)

Maybe this time, Wyatt thinks, shoving his hands in his pockets, he'll be able to figure out what he has that he can give her.

He would've expected to find Lucy getting changed in their room, but she's not there. Neither are her clothes, which is weird.

He's about to make the rounds of the safehouse when he hears it.

It could be laughter, if not for the fact that Lucy doesn't laugh in a _squeak_. It could be a sound of pain, but he hadn't seen her in their bathroom-turned-field-hospital when he passed. 

The door to Flynn's room, however, is standing one inch open. For once he doesn't hesitate.

Wyatt tugs the door open and sticks his nose inside.

The noise is Lucy.

Lucy and Flynn.

Wyatt wets his lips.

In the folding chair at the far end of Flynn's room, Lucy sits curled sideways in Flynn's lap, her arms twined around his neck and her dark head buried in his throat. Flynn is cradling her in one arm, his hand holding the crook of her knee to force her legs to spread. His other is buried between her legs, working her steadily, and well-practiced Lucy, who takes a hard touch to really enjoy it, is squeaking with every touch.

Wyatt slips into the room before he really knows what he's doing, closing the door behind him without a sound. Maybe he should clear his throat or something, but his mouth is dry.

Lucy and Flynn are both still dressed head-to-toe in their historical clothes. The sight of their unbridled enthusiasm makes Wyatt want to laugh and cry. Closer now, he can see that Lucy's generous skirt has been hiked haphazardly up to her waist, as if they got in here seconds before they jumped each other. Wyatt can almost picture it: Lucy pushing Flynn down in the chair seconds before she's dragged into Flynn's lap; Flynn yanking up her skirt roughly...

Flynn is murmuring dirty words against Lucy's temple. He must have been doing that for a long time.

Wyatt's never tried that.

He can't stop staring at Flynn's big hand between Lucy's legs, stuffed to the wrist into Lucy's all-too-modern panties. God, they look-- _good_ , all wrapped up together like that _._  Wyatt's stomach twists, hot with arousal and shame. Lucy looks small cradled in Flynn's arms, protected from the hard concrete of the bunker by his gentle strength.

Then she suddenly throws her head back, bare throat working desperately, and as Flynn leans down to nip it, she gives a positively _dirty_ little cry. Wyatt's knees threaten to buckle.

Flynn catches Lucy's head in his hand, curling a fist into her hair to hold her head back, and he's looking at her with something like devotion while he says, "You can be a little louder, Lucy."

Wyatt wants to yell, cause a scene. He wants to fight. He wants to cry. He wants to sink to his knees. He _wants--_

To be the one holding Lucy or the one being held; he can't decide. Because the idea of being that close to Lucy while she shudders in pleasure, getting to touch her, to do _that_ for her--he'd be so gentle, so--so unlike Flynn's rough hand, clearly rubbing and pinching between her legs--

But clearly this is what she wants, because she's come to _Flynn_. Because Wyatt wasn't good enough.

He's standing there, wracked by the thought, when Flynn's dark head lifts and his eyes fasten on Wyatt. _He's known I'm here,_ Wyatt realizes, with a bright flash of humiliation.  _He's known this whole time--_

Flynn's lips curl up in an idle smile. It's almost innocent. Almost.

Because now Wyatt's thinking of Flynn wrapped around him like that, forcing him over the edge again and again, smiling as though Wyatt's little moans--and he _would_ moan for Flynn, messily, he knows--are nothing more than pleasant amusement. (But Flynn's eyes would be soft, so soft.

And yes, he _would_ please Flynn, Wyatt knows. _Has_ known.)

And _Flynn_ knows all this. Wyatt can see it in his eyes.

Lucy seems unconcerned by being shown off. She bucks against Flynn's hand, and her teeth flash. It could be pleasure or frustration, and the thought of the latter sends a hot flash of something through him--fury, worry, _arousal_ \--

"Watch," Flynn orders coolly.

Lucy trills between her teeth, and Wyatt knows with awful certainty that Flynn's just screwed another finger into her. Her dark head tosses, and Wyatt blurts out, "Don't--don't tease her." His eyes burn against his will. "C'mon, _please._ "

"What, you don't like seeing this?" Flynn feigns innocent surprise, and Lucy barks out a breath. It takes Wyatt a moment to realize that it's a laugh. "Does this make you uncomfortable, Wyatt, knowing that you can't do the only job we keep you for?"

Flynn isn't smiling, and he's got a little of that protective fury Wyatt recognizes from their missions. Wyatt's heart aches almost as hard as his cock.

Flynn watches him for another long moment, his pale eyes unreadable. Then, several things happen at once: Flynn's wrist arches between Lucy's legs. Lucy's hands thread into Flynn's hair and _grip._ Flynn growls--Lucy gasps--and Wyatt lets out a broken, ragged whine.

As Lucy collapses against Flynn, panting hard, he curls around her even more. His free hand is all over her, stroking her hair and catching her hip. Lucy's sleepy smile flashes behind her hair as she whispers against Flynn's face, and when he kisses her through her hair, Wyatt feels a million miles away--until Lucy whispers in delight, "He _liked_ that, didn't he?"

"He did," Flynn agrees, but when his eyes slide to Wyatt, there's a flicker of something dark there.

"I know we weren't planning to keep him here while we did this," Lucy murmurs, her eyes flashing quickly to Wyatt and then back to Flynn. "But there might be a teaching opportunity here. What do you think?" Lucy's hand is shaky when she brushes her tangled hair from her face, but her eyes are soft, and she's smiling. Wyatt's so goddamn weak, he might melt under that smile. "Should we let him stay?"

"You know, I don't know." Flynn taps his chin mock-thoughtfully, and Wyatt shudders. They're playing with him. Flynn's eyes land on him, cold. "I vote  _no._ "

Lip trembling, Wyatt takes a shuddering step forward, all dignity forgotten. He's ready to beg-- _please. let me stay, I'll watch if that's all you want_ \--but brought up short by Flynn's mocking little tilt of the head. The man's eyes flash a second before he turns back to Lucy, as though discussing a business proposition. "He'll just be in the way."

Lucy snorts and gently thumps a fist against Flynn's chest. "He _stays_ ," she says firmly, and Wyatt exhales with relief.

Lucy's eyes are very sharp when they fix on him, however. "Listen; he needs the practice. After all..." she traces Flynn's shaved jaw with an idle hand. "How else is he going to learn?"

"Let him practice on himself," Flynn growls, waving his hand dismissively. His voice is a little too thick. "C'mon, let me send him back to his room. He can go play with that sad little cocklet of his, think about how he got himself into this situation, and how he can do better next time." They're both watching while Flynn speaks, soaking in every one of Wyatt's vulnerable shudders. "With the way he's been treating you, he doesn't deserve to stay." The words are vicious, and Wyatt glances away, to hide the tears burning his eyes. 

"Wyatt." Lucy's said his name softly, but Wyatt is yanked back by that word as though on a leash. He's attached just as strongly to her as he'd been the moment they'd met. "Come here."

Wyatt stumbles forward, but comes up short when Flynn raises a hand. Wyatt looks to Lucy, but she's just smiling gently at him. 

Wyatt doesn't know what to do. He's strung out between them, wracked and ruined, with just a few words. He's _shaking_.

Then Flynn chuckles like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "On your _knees._ "

While Flynn and Lucy watch, smiling, Wyatt sinks slowly to the ground.

"Good," Lucy says, and suddenly Wyatt can breathe again. In this moment, he feels precious.

Wyatt doesn't wait for the command to crawl to them; he does it himself, before they can take this away from him too.

Only when he's kneeling awkwardly at Flynn's feet does Lucy reach down to cup his face. Her thumb swipes a tear off his cheek.

"Color?" she asks seriously.

"Green," Wyatt gasps, grateful for permission. " _So_ green. You think _I'm_ gonna stop this? Really, I--"

Her hand wraps around the nape of his neck, and Wyatt chokes off midsentence. "It's okay, Wyatt."

"Enough talking," Flynn says dismissively, and leans forward. He's cradling Lucy more comfortably in his arms, and when she's not looking, Flynn flashing Wyatt a cocked eyebrow that says _how's it feel on the ground?_ "Unless you learned anything from that, Wyatt, keeping you here is a waste of time." A considering look. "But you've been watching carefully, haven't you?"

Before Wyatt can nod, Lucy squeezes Flynn's knee, and he exhales heavily, eyes flashing to her. "Be nice."

"Only for you," Flynn says dryly, and withdraws his hand from between Lucy's legs without wiping it clean. He offers his fingers, still wet with Lucy's slick, and Wyatt swallows hard. "Want a taste?"

Hesitantly, Wyatt leans forward, drawing Flynn's fingers into his mouth with dry lips. He can smell Lucy's arousal before he gets there, and his mouth waters. She's musky and cool and wet--god, what he'd give to get his mouth on the real thing--

"Good," Flynn says shortly, and pulls his fingers free. When he wipes his hand on Wyatt's shirt, Wyatt flushes and looks away.

Lucy's putting her skirts back in order, flushing slightly, and slides her legs around front to face Wyatt. He's staring up at her adoringly, and he doesn't even think to shrink away as she leans down. Lucy cups his face like he's treasure, like he's fragile and needs to be handled carefully. She's still panting slightly. One of her hands dips low to find his, squeezes so tight it hurts, brings Wyatt's hand up to where Flynn's is resting on her hip. All three of their hands meet there and tangle together.

Wyatt moans.

When Lucy pulls away, her eyes are twinkling, and Wyatt can't help a satisfied smile. He's pleased her. 

"I think you've earned a little practice time," Lucy breathes against his lips, and it's everything Wyatt can do not to flinch. No, he doesn't want to fucking _practice_ , he wants to be _Lucy's_ , to be with her and _loved_ by her and _good enough_.

"I mean, it's the only way you'll learn to please her properly," Flynn says from above them. Lucy gives him a strange, sad look, and crumbling, Wyatt nods.

"Lucy?" Flynn says gently, and she scoots sideways, adjusting herself so that Flynn can stand with her cradled in one arm. Wyatt reaches up, unconsciously clawing at Flynn's suit pants-- _take me with you_ \--and Flynn chuckles, kisses Lucy once more for good measure, and slides one hand into Wyatt's hair. It's grown long enough, during their time in the bunker, that Flynn can grip hard enough to pull. Wyatt whines, and Flynn coos, "No complaining. Come on, now."

Flynn crosses the room towards the bed with Lucy cradled in one arm and Wyatt walking on his knees behind him, being dragged by the hair.

Lucy gets set down on the bed and laid on her back with the utmost gentleness. Flynn brushes her hair from her face, smiling, and Wyatt chokes at the sight of them lost in each other's eyes.

Wyatt gets dragged halfway to his feet and shoved bodily onto the bed. He falls on his side, flushed and wrecked, at Lucy's feet, and he's scrambling upright when Flynn's hand wraps around his chin and drags his face up.

Flynn's eyes are impossibly soft, however, when he murmurs, "Give me a color, Wyatt."

Flynn's thumb swipes over Wyatt's mouth. Sometimes Wyatt shuts up on obedient instinct, and he recognizes this as deliberate permission to speak.

The question is asked with such concern and seriousness, as if it's _possible_ Wyatt wasn't enjoying this, if it isn't the goddamn greatest moment of his life, that Wyatt almost wants to laugh. The depths of love reflected in those pale eyes give him, pause, however, so Wyatt gives his sweetest smile, and covers the hand cupping his face with his own. "Green. I'm good. I promise."

Flynn's eyes narrow, the edges of his mouth quirk up, and for a moment Wyatt thinks he's going to be kissed. Then Flynn tosses his head away, reaches for Lucy, and grabs the hem of her dress to drags it up over her hips. Lucy gasps in mock-outrage, but she's laughing up at Flynn, sparkling, and he shoots her a shy, devilish smile. 

Then Flynn turns to Wyatt, his face going carefully cold. "This hesitation," Flynn growls, and his hand locks in Wyatt's bangs and drags his face down to the juncture of Lucy's thighs, "is why I had to step in in the first place." Wyatt's panting, and so is Lucy, too, by the way her bare legs tremble. "Get to work. Unless you want to sit by the bed and watch me take care of this, too..."

And although that draws an eager little whimper out of him, Wyatt doesn't know when he'll get the chance to do this again, so he leans forward, resting on his elbows. Flynn hums in what he thinks is approval.

Lucy is still covered by her panties, but it's easy enough for Wyatt to tuck the crotch of them aside in order to expose what's underneath. Wyatt pants against her for a minute, warming her up, before he tucks his nose against the joint of leg and abdomen, and nuzzles upwards, trailing kisses across her pubic bone.

He's interrupted by Flynn squeezing his ass sharply, and by an irritated snarl of, "Use your time better, idiot."

Lucy gasps when Wyatt trails an exploratory lick through her folds. He smirks against her, and Lucy giggles. 

He's been decently trained in this, and it's easy enough for Wyatt to start warming her with his tongue, eager and gentle before darting up to her clit and tracing hard, wide circles. He already feels Lucy's hands petting his hair, whispering _yes_ , but it's not enough.

Thankfully, there's another hand, larger, wrapping around the back of his neck and squeezing tight. "I like watching you try," Flynn says. His breath ghosts over Wyatt's ear, and Wyatt realizes with a twist of heat that Flynn is leaning close over him, observing his work. "You really don't know anything, do you? Listen up. You need to press a little harder; that's it, you're not going to break her."

Wyatt does as he's told, and Lucy gasps " _Thank you,_ " and he doesn't know which one of them she's thanking. That makes Wyatt feel hot, being so low on the ladder he's a useful toy, and he redoubles his efforts as Flynn softly speaks instructions into his ear. Before long Lucy is gasping sharply and making those sharp squeaks Wyatt had heard from the hallway. Encouraged, he adds a hint of teeth. Lucy fists one hand in the sheets, the other cradling the back of his head, holding him close.

Wyatt's elated. He's doing so well.

(Also, he's never been so hard in his life; it's making him weak, hard to hold himself up.)

Although he's known his hips are up in the air, Wyatt doesn't realize how vulnerable he is until Flynn's hot hand leaves his neck and reaches low, popping the button on his jeans. Wyatt's breath catches--against Lucy--as Flynn pulls his cock free from his boxers and rubs the head.

He's faltered, Wyatt realizes, when Lucy's nails dig into the back of his neck, and from above him, she grits out, " _No._ "

With a spark of panic, Wyatt gets back to earning this.

Flynn lets him get his rhythm back, get Lucy right back up to the edge, before he interrupts Wyatt again.

"We can make it better for you." It takes everything Wyatt has to keep his concentration when Flynn fondles him, using his own precome as lube. "If you can show me you're any good at following instructions, I'll touch you until you get off. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

That promise, and the sound of Flynn saying his name, sends an electric jolt through him; Wyatt hasn't come in so long. Flynn had caught him in the showers last week, pinched him soft with the cascading water turning cold around them, and whispered into his ear, "I don't think you'll be touching yourself until I say." 

Wyatt hasn't forgotten that. He's been perfectly good. So he understands now the weight of what Flynn's offering him, and he's grateful, although frankly he doesn't need the extra motivation; the promise of pleasing Lucy, of making her _smile,_ is something Wyatt wants so much it's sent him to his knees (more than once).

So he nods. Flynn's smile is audible when he murmurs, "Good. Make Lucy come first, though."

He can do this. He just needs to focus.

Which isn't easy when Flynn is running his manicured nails along the underside of Wyatt's cock, and chuckling when he shudders.

Lucy's close, though. Her grip on the nape of his neck hasn't loosened in the last couple of minutes, each ragged gasp comes on the heels of another, and she's wet enough; the bottom half of Wyatt's face is messy from being buried there. He rests his hands on Lucy's hips to get a better angle, and for a moment he's afraid that they'll deny him even this, but Lucy just cants her hips up, helping him to reach her properly.

Wyatt takes a break from tormenting her clit to carefully work the tip of his tongue inside her, diligently feeling for the telltale spasms that tell him Lucy's ready to be pushed over the edge. When he finds them, Wyatt works his way upwards again, finally sealing his mouth over Lucy's clit and working his lips firmly. His mouth might be sore tomorrow, but he doesn't care.

They can all tell the exact moment when Lucy comes, because her muscles go taut as a string and then collapse. Although his instincts scream to pull away in case she's oversensitive, Wyatt follows Flynn's example from earlier, and works Lucy through the last of her orgasm. 

"Clean her up," Flynn instructs him, and Wyatt does as best he can with his numb, aching tongue. He hopes he's pleased her. Lucy's fingertips are pressing on the edges of his jaw, and in his sex-drunk state, Wyatt doesn't realize she's trying to tug him upwards until Flynn slides a gentle hand over his hair to get his attention. Wyatt glances at him, his face flushed and his eyes hopeful and half-empty, and Flynn smiles and gestures up towards Lucy. While Wyatt leans back, wiping his mouth, Flynn helps Lucy sit up. Leaning forwards, she takes Wyatt's face in both hands, and bumps their noses together, and Wyatt submits eagerly to her kissing him through her hot, damp hair.

Flynn's warm presence covers them from the side. His arm snakes around Wyatt's waist to find his cock, and Lucy's tongue is still in Wyatt's mouth when Flynn brings him off with one brutal twist.

Wyatt might scream. He's not sure.

All he knows is that Lucy's biting down hard on his lip and swallowing his moans and laughing high in the back of her throat, and that Flynn is wringing him dry and and whispering softly, "That's it, Wyatt, just let go," and that Wyatt is coming apart between them, among them, around them, while Lucy, trembling, holds him--Flynn might be using his other hand to bring her off again, too--and along with all of this Wyatt is laughing brokenly into Lucy's mouth. He can't think.

It takes him a minute afterwards to fully come back. Fortunately, Lucy's forehead is firm against his, her breath warm on his lips, and her hand stroking his hair steady and familiar. Wyatt stares into her eyes, soaking in the sight of her, before he leans forward and takes in a gentle kiss. 

Lucy chuckles as he pulls away. "No more hesitation?"

"Nah." Wyatt smiles and glances to where Flynn kneels beside the bed. He's always caring and tactile after a session, and today is no exception; Flynn wipes their sweaty necks with a damp cloth, runs a quick hand helplessly through Lucy's hair, and tucks Wyatt back into his pants. He's working silently, apparently on autopilot, until he notices Wyatt watching him. Flynn's face is unreadable as he reaches out a hand.

Flynn falters before he gets there, however, and his hand abruptly changes course from Wyatt's face to his shoulder. "Please tell me, was that...all right?" Flynn's voice is wary, and he won't look Wyatt in the eye.

The uncertainty there simultaneously breaks Wyatt's heart and makes him want to laugh.

_Damn, was that me?_

"Better than _all right_." With a snort, Wyatt reaches forward, tugging on Flynn's shirt collar to pull him close. He might kiss Flynn with a little too much fire, because Flynn looks slightly dazed. "I'm cured of my bullshit, Flynn, thanks."

Although he's still blinking dizzily, Flynn is apparently aware enough to snort, "Not likely."

Lucy links her hand with Flynn's, who looks to her for direction, and she further distracts him with a quick kiss. "Thank you," she whispers against his lips.

Then, because Lucy is a saint, she cups Wyatt's face in her hand, looks him dead in the eye so he knows she's serious, and promises, "You did _everything_ right."

Wyatt doesn't say anything snarky. He can't, because his eyes are full of tears, like an idiot.

He wipes them away quickly, of course, which isn't as easy as it should be because Lucy has noticed and wrapped herself around him, and Flynn is anxiously trying to wipe his face to comfort him, and their touch all over makes Wyatt laugh.

If there was ever a doubt he belonged with them, it's long gone.

Enjoying the confidence of this moment, Wyatt hooks a finger in Flynn's belt loop and tugs. "You think I didn't notice you not getting off?" Flynn cocks an eyebrow at him, and Wyatt gives his best saucy smile. "We can't let that stand, right?"

"Ah, I don't need it." Flynn waves him off, smirking. "Not _everyone_ is as greedy as you two."

Lucy rolls her eyes, mutters, "I resemble that remark."

"Damn straight." Wyatt pokes her in the side to make her giggle. "The way you were looking at us in the _Lifeboat?_ " He shares a look with Flynn, who exhales heavily. "You can't do that to us, Lucy."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Lucy's smiling like a cat.

"I've told you too many times," Flynn mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face, "Do you have to flirt in front of Rufus?"

"I dunno." Wyatt shrugs, grinning shamelessly. "He made it through Lucy and me eyefucking through our first year together."

Lucy gives him a dry look. "We did _not._ "

"You did," Flynn says flatly.

After the color has drained from Lucy's face and Wyatt stops laughing, he tugs at Flynn once again. "Look. You don't have to do anything you don't wanna, but don't pull the self-sacrifice crap with us here, okay?" He glances at Lucy and catches her flashing a rare, proud smile. Wyatt glows. "We're greedy? Let _us_ prove it."

"Well, it's not that I don't want you," Flynn says. His voice drops low and surprisingly hungry, and his intent eyes go dark.

"Don't tell me it's that I'm not _good enough,_ " Wyatt grins, in a mockery of Flynn's insult earlier.

For a moment, Flynn looks like he might jump Wyatt right there. Then his face softens. Looks dead into Wyatt's eyes. Says softly, "You could _never_ displease me."

_Don't cry again. Don't cry. Don't--_

Wyatt considers himself saved when Lucy reaches out an impatient hand, and Flynn joins them on the bed without hesitation. Wyatt tackles him playfully while Lucy catches Flynn's mouth in a kiss, and their laughter rings quietly through the little room, and Wyatt knows, as surely as that the three of them are _right,_ that Flynn's words are nothing but true _._

And he's never been less afraid.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first shot at garcyatt smut, so if you enjoyed, kudos and especially comments feed my lifeblood! And as always, requests remain open over at to-hell-with-oblivion on tumblr. :)
> 
> Sidenote: although garcyatt are fully together in this fic, Flynn insists on having his own room due to his snoring. Wyatt and Lucy are slowly coaxing him into sharing their room, but they're not there yet; I couldn't find an easy way to work it into the fic so I'm sharing it here. :)


End file.
